Dare to Trust
by S.K.Evans
Summary: He shows up at my doorstep one night, soaking, desperate, and homeless. I didn't have much of a choice, did I? AU.
1. prologue

-

-

-

_strife_

-

-

Staring at the ceiling is all I've got to do.

The white doesn't calm me.

All the walls are white here.

They always say it's not a mental institution or a psychiatric hospital or a rehabilitation center.

But it is.

My room is almost empty. I've got a bed with a drawer and a night table. My bathroom is empty of everything that could put my life in danger.

I want to say they're the crazy ones, but I know I could be wrong.

I cross my arms behind my head. The moonlight filters through the window. All the lights are turned off but I'm aware of the white.

It just reminds me of everything I've done. Not much, when I really think about it, but enough.

White is death to me. I feel as thought my mind dies a little more each time I glance at the darkened ceiling. White floor, dark ceiling; white snow, dark sky.

I sense my lips twist into a bittersweet smirk.

I torture myself.

—

My personal doctor is Dr. Cohen. She's not really my personal doctor because she treats three other patients, but I'm not supposed to know that. They tell us they're our personal doctors so we'll feel privileged.

Some of us might be desperate or crazy, but not all are stupid.

Or maybe I am stupid.

I'm still debating over that.

Is it qualified stupid to do what I did?

I don't want to ask.

Dr. Cohen is sitting in front of me in this cozy chair, leafing through her notebook. She tries to look concentrated but I see her checking me every thirty seconds from the corner of her eyes.

Her eyes are pretty. They're this warm shade of amber, or perhaps it's called hazel.

Nobody has lively eyes here. It's a relief to see someone with a little sparkle of life in theirs.

She finally turns to me, smiling like she has some good news.

Good news would mean that I could get the fuck out of here. Nothing else.

"Your progress is interesting. You've come a long way since last year."

Her tone is proud. Like it's all her doing.

Maybe it is.

I am rather fucked up in the head. Mending my broken psyche myself would probably take me years. But then again, I don't think I'm cured. I'll never be. These kinds of things don't disappear.

"Did you sleep well last night?"

I didn't. If I'm lucky, I'll get one good night of sleep per week. Three hours a night is my average nap time.

I shrug. That's enough of an answer to her.

She writes down something. I know it's for medical check-up. She told me once.

I've been in the office for a while now. I think an hour has passed. There's no clock here. I heard it's because lots of patients get depressed watching the time go by. Not me. I wish I could see what hour it is sometimes.

Dr. Cohen tells me I can go, but that I must head up to my room by the main corridor.

I tried to escape three months ago.

I'm under constant watch after every consultation. I picked a new route that day, trying to see where it would lead me. I ended up on the third floor of the institution where it's mostly people who hear voices. There's an emergency exit on that floor. In case of fires, I think. I was found before I could even come within five feet of the door.

—

They took most of my old clothes when I came in here. They let me keep some tee shirts and a few jeans. They said dressing like I did before getting admitted would only make me remember my past. The bad part of my life as they say. But the truth is they find some clothes incovenient, as we could hide _things_ in them. Like plastic knives. Or perhaps forks. Because we often do competition to see who can kill himself first with plastic ustensils.

Idiots.

I play with my food, pushing the mashed potatoes around the plate. The cafeteria is nearly vacant. I try to come eat at the last minute so all the noisy fuckers don't invade me. Some spend their time telling us why they should get out. They're usually the ones that stay a few more years.

I was in college before all of this happened.

Sometimes I miss college. Sometimes I don't.

I never graduated. I don't think I ever will. I'm never going back to school. I hope so, at least.

I'm a legal adult, anyway; they can't force me.

Dr. Cohen says I have potential and that once I get out I should apply to the local community college of Kalm. It's near the hospital, which means near her.

If I ever get out, I'm going back to Midgar. Without a doubt. It's a big city. Even if I lived there before, I can easily get lost in the crowd.

Some letter arrived this morning, Dr. Cohen had told me earlier. Good news, she had added.

I sure hoped. Yesterday marked my second year here.

It was rare that people like me stayed this long. Usually they were out after six months, though most of them came back for a few more months. Or for indefinite stay.

They say they kept me because I have an anti-social problem. That I have difficulties interacting with people and that it was due to traumatic events in my childhood.

A great load of bull.

I know I have difficulties with people. I don't even look like a fucking people person. That's why I went to a small private snobbish college. So I'd be left alone.

Doesn't mean I'm anti-social.

A tray plops down in front of mine, and I look up to meet Marie Evelyn's eyes.

Gotta get out of here.

Marie Evelyn first talked to me because she had a dream about a blond guy who would save her. She approached me at dinner three months ago to tell me that. I was the fifth guy she had told this to, and I wasn't the first to tell her to go screw herself. I was the only one who made her cry, though. After one rejection, she just HAD to come back and tell me we were destined to do great good to the world because she had had another dream about me, and that was because the stars were aligned right because the pagan gods wanted to change the world. Or something like that. I didn't really listen; I was too busy plotting ways to make her go away from me.

Marie Evelyn smiled broadly at me, then glanced at my tray still full of food. She thinks I'm not going to run away since I have food left to eat. She really doesn't know me.

I'd rather spend two other years in here than to have a conversation with her.

Without doubt, I get up, leaving my tray to be Marie Evelyn's lone companion. Her smile dims a little; she probably thinks I'm not serious about leaving her alone.

Dream on.

—

It's only five hours later that Dr. Cohen knocks on my room's door.

She's standing erect, clutching a big envelope and her notebook, and she's grinning from ear to ear. She's shed her usual brown knit sweater for a white one, and I know from experience that this means good news. She only wears that sweater when something fabulous happens. Like a patient obtaining the permission to get out.

My heart starts to beat a bit faster. I stare at the darkened ceiling that haunts me for what I hope is the last time, and sit up in my bed. I know Dr. Cohen noticed my furtive peek but she says nothing.

I've learned not to expect too much of life so I try to control my emotions. I don't want to have my hopes crushed because my expectations rose too high.

The doctor's grin slowly becomes a secretive half-smile, and she sees right through me.

I've seen her just about every day for two years. I think I'm going to miss her, but I hope I won't.

She doesn't have to tell me I'm not setting foot here again.

I feel it.

I _know_ it.

My silence is her answer.

She nods.

And for the first time in years, I smile a real smile.

—

**A/N: skyler posted two updates in a week. round of applause, please.**


	2. one

-

-

-

_strife_

-

-

They ask me if I have any living relatives so I answer with a shake of my head. All my family is dead; I'm the only one left standing, and it's a thought that makes me smile. I'm alive, but I'm alone. Dr. Cohen told me yesterday that I needed a close relative or parent figure to go live with if I want to get out. They decided they wouldn't let me go on my own. I'm out, but I still need to be watched over.

How's that for liberty?

Dr. Cohen is sitting nervously besides the guy who's been interrogating me. I don't even know who he is. Probably the institution's director or something. I need his approbation before being let out; Dr. Cohen's rapports are not enough. Bastard.

He's staring at me with this hawk eyes, and I think that it would have made me nervous a long time ago. Not now. I've changed a lot since I got in here, but, in a way, I'm not absolutely sure it's for the best. Maybe.

Dr. Cohen and I went over the questions she believed the director would ask me, so I have an answer at everything. I can tell it's pissing him off, and I want to smile but I keep my satisfaction inside. I don't want to gamble with my life.

And then he asks me the stupid question to which I have no answer.

Who am I going to live with?

It's a tricky one, that's for sure. It has to be an adult. There's only one name that pops up in my mind, but I can't ask her. I don't think she'd appreciate me living under her roof, and I'd just feel uncomfortable. Extremely uncomfortable. So I think; I think about who would accept to have me in their home. But it's hard; it's really hard. Because nobody wants a guy who spent the last two years of his life in a mental institution, even though he's been declared stable. They won't want me in fear I hurt their children or them; I could even steal their stuff or let murderers in. I could have connections with 'shady people' from the hospital.

I want to scream at the world that I am not a crazy guy. I did some things, but I'm not crazy; I don't have a fucking _disease_. I'm not _contagious._

The only person I ever hurt was myself. My parents died, my friends didn't care and my girlfriend is the one who hurt me in the relationship.

I want to yell at them that I'm an inoffensive guy, because it's the truth.

I got admitted into a hospital for nut jobs.

My words aren't worth a damn penny.

The director asks me again, and Dr. Cohen is pleading me with her eyes not to do anything stupid. It's my only chance and I'm not about to waste it.

So I tell them a name. And I know I'll regret it later.

But I want to live.

—

The taxi they got me stops in front of a modest building that looks a little run-down. The guy in the car eyes the edifice as if he had never seen one before and I know what he's thinking. What the hell am I doing here at this ungodly hour? The neighborhood isn't the best, but it'll do for now. Elmyra never had that much money, but I remember her apartment as nice and homey. And she lives a few blocks down, in the nicer part of the area. I only have to live a year here without incidents and then, I'll be free._ Free_. The word sounds sort of freaky and foreign, but at the same time, sweet and precious.

I step out of the cab, grabbing my duffel bag and backpack --they contain all my possessions--, and I don't realize I'm grinning like a maniac until the driver says, "What's so funny, kid?" I can't tell him the truth; I don't want the whole city to know I'm an ancient resident of Kalm Psychiatric Hospital even if I'm from the rehabilitation ward. It's the same to people. Usually, the doctors tell the cab drivers to come pick us up in front of the hospital, but Dr. Cohen said she trusted me. But I know it's 'cause she's aware I've got nowhere to go.

The rain is pouring down and it feels like nails are drilling through my head, but I'm still grinning. It's the first time I stand under the rain in two years. I never though I'd be so happy it was raining.

I can feel that dark part of my heart being pushed back by the adrenaline and the excitement but I know it's still there. The minute this thought infiltrates my mind I sober a little. The buzz doesn't disappear but I know it won't stay eternally. I look up at the black sky and scratch my jaw. I blink as the water falls into my eyes. The driver is yelling at me to pay him and to close the door since the rain is starting to get into his car, but I ignore him.

I should probably go before he realizes I don't have any money on me.

—

I can't believe I'm fucking _lost._

I've been to Elmyra's apartment a dozen of times, if not more. I _know_ the way. I've been standing for more than half an hour in the rain, and I'm not too happy about that. My bags are completely drenched and so I am. I managed to run away from the driver my taking some random alleys.

I'm lost in a neighborhood I barely know, except for the block Elmyra lives in. That's just _merry_. And I can't stand in the street for the whole night. I've got some pride, and acknowledging I'm totally disoriented is enough of a blow to my ego.

I continue walking down the street, starting to recognize the setting. I know I'm getting close but I still have difficulty localizing the building in the dark. I squint, trying to read the numbers written on the side of the door. I let out a sigh.

I have finally found it.

The front door is unlocked so I enter silently. I don't want to draw attention to myself, especially at this hour. I climb up the stairs with my bags thrown over my shoulder. The water is dripping down my neck and tracing a path on my back, under my clothes. My hair is wet and sticking to my forehead. I push it back impatiently.

I need to sleep. I'm pretty sure it's past eleven but I don't have a watch, or a cell phone. I look at the doors' numbers with bored eyes. I know Elmyra's apartment is on the third floor and is the door on the left. I hum a song that was playing in the cab. I don't know the name or the artist, but it's the kind of song with an annoying beat that gets stuck in your head. It sounds a little girly, actually, and I stop singing it under my breath. I don't want to get caught singing that crap.

I finish climbing the last set of stairs, and the apartment is the first door to my left. I bit back a nervous smile. I know she's gonna let me stay because she's too kind to refuse. And she knows me. She can't refuse. But maybe she will. I'm not sure anymore. I don't even know if she's in right now.

I'm so screwed if she isn't.

Gathering my courage, I knock on the door. There's a moment of complete silence --not even the cars outside make a sound, but that may be because there's none passing in the street-- and then I hear footsteps. They seem hesitant but still rapid, like the person on the other side wants to get rid of the task quickly. I know I would.

The door opens, and I take a deep breath, raising my eyes to meet Elmyra's.

Except it's not Elmyra standing in front of me.

XXXXXXXXX

—

_lockheart  
_—

XXXXXXXXX

I drank three Cherry Coke earlier this night so it's not a surprise I'm still up past eleven on a Wednesday night even though I have classes the following day. I am wide awake and staring at the television with indifference. I don't even know what I'm watching, but it doesn't really matter. I have a History course tomorrow at nine and the traffic in this damn town is so heavy I have to get up at seven if I wanna be in time. It depresses me that I have to get up so early for only one course. I really need to find a better apartment. Seriously.

The guy on the TV laughs, and it's a laugh that would usually make me smile, but I'm dead tired and the freaking caffeine won't let me sleep. Maybe that's why I feel like everything is pissing me off. With a groan, I lay down on the couch, hiding my face in the plum cushion. It's a shame the lady who lived here before didn't take her furniture back; the whole set is pretty nice. But, hey, who am I to complain?

I sigh and throw an arm over my eyes as I roll over on my back. The flat is small, but comfortable. There's a small entrance hall partially hidden by the wall corner, and the living room is open and linked to the kitchen. A hallway leading to the bathroom and the two bedrooms completes the picture.

I like the living room best. It's so…normal and spacious. The television is set on an old table and all of my movies and CDs are on the bookcases besides. There's a coffee table between the couch and the TV, and an armchair is on the left. My work desk is right behind the divan, accompanied by tons of paper on the ground.

Yep, it's comfy.

I start when I hear knocking on the other side of the door.

What the…?

Who in their right minds would come knocking at this hour? It's better not be Reno or I'm kicking his ass tomorrow. The guy is insufferable, I swear. A little nervous, I get up, walking to the door with dozens of weird ideas crossing my mind. I mean, it could be a freaking killer!

Unlocking the door, I pause for a moment. I can still pretend I'm not in or something. Hey, and who am I kidding, here? The person on the other side probably heard me unbolting the door. I open with apprehensively.

It's a guy.

He's soaked from head to toes, as if he's been walking for hours under the rain, and he's carrying two bags, equally drenched. I unabashedly stare at him, dumbfounded. He's got blond hair that reaches a few centimeters under his ears and falls into his eyes. He's not that tall, just a couple inches more than me --I come up to his lips. He's wearing jeans, a grey tee shirt and a slightly worn-out black hoodie. To be honest, he looks like somebody who's been living in the street, but cleaner. Except I don't know lots of people who live in the street so I might be wrong.

Something catches my attention, though.

He's got beautiful eyes.

There's this flashy blue, sparkled with darker flecks and with aquamarine spots. They have _so_ many emotions in them; it feels as though he's fighting something. He blinks several times.

There's an unknown boy standing on my doorstep at nearly midnight. He's dripping wet, seems desperate and homeless and searching for shelter.

And he looks downright shocked to see me.

—

**  
A/N: introducing Tifa. **

**  
**kissesss:

**sam, cloudlover2989, Marisa, d0rkgoddess, Alice-In-Wonderland101, BlueWings92, anon, 7777, h.luna, Sunni D. Lockhart, Mrs.Strife, tad, .slideshow, & king-pin.**


	3. two

-

-

-

_lockheart_

-

-

We're both unable to move. I don't what to say. How do you start a conversation with a stranger who's standing at your door looking like _you_'re in the wrong place? I can see he's probably not a bad guy --he honestly seems surprised-- but what can I do?

I have to say something. The awkwardness is killing me.

"Can I help you?"

There, simple enough. That's what I should have said from the beginning instead of standing there with my mouth open like a fish.

The words seem to snap him out of his daze. He blinks a few times again but other than that he's back on earth. He clears his throat and goes to bit his nail but stops before he can start chewing on it. Weird guy.

"Where's Elmyra?" His voice is kinda rough, as if he hasn't used it in a long time. I don't know why, but it doesn't surprise me.

"She moved out a year ago," I answer carefully. He really sounds like he knows her but I'm still doubtful.

He swears under his breath and rubs his face. I hear him anyway. He sure appears frustrated.

He brusquely turns to me, and I try not to startle but I can tell he sees it. He smiles but it looks more forced than anything else. "Hey, do you think I could use your phone?"

My initial reaction is to say no. I gnash at the inside of my cheek, pondering. I don't have to let him in; I can just go get the phone and let him make a call…

"Just…wait here a minute."

He nods. "Alright. Okay."

I let the door close a bit behind me and walk toward the kitchen counter. I try to keep him in my peripheral vision but it's kinda hard. He stays outside the flat and he's not even looking at me. I silently hand him the phone, which he takes with another hollow smile. Crossing my arms, I stand back a little while he's dialing but I remain near enough.

"Hey," he says, glancing at me. I frown. His voice suddenly sounds different, deeper. "Is Elmyra there? Yeah, thanks…"

He glimpses at me again, an undecipherable expression on his face. I try my best to stay quiet.

"Hi. It's…it's me, Cloud." Then, he winces. I raise an eyebrow; even I could hear the 'Oh, my god!' coming from the phone.

"Yeah. Yeah…No, don't tell, please. Sure." For about two minutes he doesn't say anything except for a dip of the head and a non-committal sound here and there. Suddenly, he starts biting his thumb nail and he closes his eyes. "It's okay. Two years is a long time, yeah. Just…no, please. Elmyra, I need a place to stay. Yeah, but there's this girl I don't know so…" Cloud's head snap toward me and he squints, as if he has difficulty seeing me. "Sure. She wants to talk to you."

It takes me a few seconds to understand the last sentence is directed to me. I take the phone from his hand.

"Hello, Elmyra?"

"Tifa! Hi, honey, how are you?"

I can't help but smile a little. I've known her for a year at most but she's got such a nice personality. She reminds me of her daughter. They're both too good to the world.

"Fine. What did you want to tell me?" Perhaps I'm rude but I'm getting freaking tired.

"Oh, Tifa, I don't know if you'll accept this but do you think you could take this boy in for a few nights?" I freeze, and I know Cloud notices. Take him in? I take a peek at him through my fringe. He's examining the paintings on the wall but something catches his attention. I blush. I forgot to take down all the post-it papers near my desk. Some of them are embarrassing reminders I didn't expect people to see.

"Elmyra…"

"He's a good boy," she interrupts me, identifying my refusal before I can even voice it. "He's had a difficult life, Tifa. I can't take him in. It's complicated and there's a lot to tell, but it's not my place. I swear to God, you're the only person I can think of who could take him in for a couple of nights. Please."

It's the please that does it. I know I shouldn't accept. I mean, whatever Elmyra says, he's a freaking stranger!

He's looking at me, deadpan, but I can discern the small gleam of hope in his eyes.

"Alright," I sigh.

Elmyra thanks me a million times and although I can hear her, I don't listen. I can't stop staring at the relief reflected in Cloud's face.

He suddenly seems years younger.

After a thousand other thank you, Elmyra hangs up and I whirl around to face the boy who's going to be staying with me for the next days.

"Thanks," he says, coming near me.

I shrug. "It's not like I really had a choice. It's Elmyra we're talking about."

He doesn't reply as he hitches his backpack higher on his shoulder. Yeah, awkward.

"So…I'll show you where you'll sleep."

I don't wait for him as I head toward a small hallway besides the kitchen. I stop in front of the first door.

"The door at the end is my room. The other one is the bathroom." I turn the doorknob. The room is Elmyra's old office. There's a desk, a small table, piles of books, and a big and hopefully comfortable sofa-bed. "This is where you'll sleep," I added. "It's a little dusty but it'll do the trick."

Cloud lets his bags fall on the floor and takes a look at the room. Not luxury, that's for sure, but I'm pretty sure he'll be all right. He sits on the couch, and I notice his exhaustion for the first time. I lean on the doorway, hiding my hands in my pockets.

"Tomorrow I have classes at nine and the traffic is so heavy I have to wake up early. I'm up a seven but I'll be back soon. I don't know if you've got anywhere to be…" I let the question open, waiting for his answer. When he fails to reply, I cough, trying to bring his focus back to myself. The least he could do is listen.

"Sorry," he mutters, running a hand through his disheveled mop of hair. "I don't work. If you don't mind I'll stay here tomorrow."

I can tell he's wary of my answer, and I would be too. It's one thing to let a stranger --although a 'recommended' one-- in your house, but to live him alone during a whole day?

"You don't have classes?"

He shakes his head. "I'm out of college. If you want I can go out and come back when you're here."

That's an appealing option but I don't think I can let him wander the city alone for hours with nowhere to go just because I'm being skeptical. So I tell him he can stay tomorrow, and that breakfast is cereals and toasts here, get used to it. He seems to find this somewhat funny because he chuckles.

"Sure is okay with me."

We say good night. I close the door quietly, wondering if I'm doing the right thing. Elmyra trusts him. She even said he's a good boy. She rarely says that. And she added he's got a difficult life…

I roll my eyes, berating myself for thinking too much. A couple of nights. I can do that. Tomorrow night I'll talk to him to try to learn why he's here. He sure owns me that.

I turn off all the lights in the flat before going to my room. I take off my large hoodie, carelessly throwing it in a corner of the room where all my dirty clothes are. The room's messy, but not too much. It's small anyway, so I can't afford to let too many things lie around.

As I stare at my ceiling, I can't help but have a sick feeling in my stomach. I don't believe I'll be able to sleep peacefully tonight, not with everything that happened earlier. I let out a small snigger when I realize I never told Cloud my name. Perhaps Elmyra told him on the phone, I don't know, but it strikes me as strange that he didn't ask. Maybe it doesn't matter to him. He looked drained when I left him. It probably wasn't number one on his to-do list.

I glance at my digital clock. Nearly midnight. Sighing, I get up, deciding to go drink some water. My throat is dry and sticky, a feeling I hate.

Making sure to not be too noisy, I open my door and walk down the hall. I freeze at the sound of Cloud's voice. It's not coming from his new room. I tiptoe toward the kitchen.

He's standing with his back to me, holding my phone to his ear and talking in a hushed voice. I can still hear everything he says.

"Yes, she accepted to take me. I know. Listen, Dr. Cohen, she's asleep right now. I've taken her by surprise and I think it was quite a surprise. I'm not about to wake her up too. Her name? I already told you. No."

I'm waiting for him to turn around and detect me but he appears to be absorbed with his chat. I don't want to interrupt but I'm also curious.

"Sure," he continues. "I'll make sure she calls you back. Yes, it's Elmyra. Alright. Bye."

He jumps when he sees me standing behind him, unmoving.

"My name's Tifa." Is that really all I have to say? I've just spied a talk with someone he refers to as Dr. Cohen, which certainly doesn't help his case.

"Cloud. See you tomorrow."

He brushes past me, and I hear his door clicking shut.

You and I will have a nice chat, Cloud.

—

**A/N: **there you go, chapter 2. Too short and not the best but it'll do. I created an LJ for new on updates. Link's on my profile page. This was not checked for mistake so feel free to point them.

thanks! :

**anon, , cloudlover2989, Marisa, cerberus angel, tad, sam, Alice-In-Wonderland101, 7777, MtReload, BlueWings92, EternallySurprised, Rayne Fenrir, anie, & demonegg. **


End file.
